


The Great Dick Heist of 2020

by fckyeahgallavich



Series: Requests/Prompts [19]
Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: A bit of dark thoughts, Humor, M/M, Payback, Revenge, Theft, community working together, stealing for a cause, total silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:55:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25846939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fckyeahgallavich/pseuds/fckyeahgallavich
Summary: When Mickey sees a 3 foot dildo sitting in a sex shop, at first he's blown away that someone would even make such a thing... Then he gets an idea.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Requests/Prompts [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/878244
Comments: 20
Kudos: 97





	The Great Dick Heist of 2020

**Author's Note:**

> A friend sent this to me  
> <>  
> and said some people were wanting this as a prompt. I'm sure these people meant they wanted it as smut but I thought this was a more realistic reason Mickey and Ian might do this and thought it would be funny as fuck.
> 
> Thanks to Eli who is always so jazzed about my ideas and always has fun things to add; your brainstorming with me is part of why these stories are always so fun.

Going out during a pandemic is a tricky affair. The masks get annoyingly hot and shift on the face but _no touching your face!_ Then there's the social distancing and trying to keep 6 feet away from everyone else even though there are entirely too many people out and about for that to be remotely possible. Every time Mickey wanted to give up on the whole practice Ian would slap that mask back on his face so quick it'd be like it never left, and then he'd offer a sweet but hard reminder that their safety was important because of the young ones at home (and was important because "after all the bullshit it took to get married, we're not losing each other to a fucking preventable illness"). And Mickey rarely argued. It was just a frustrating situation.

Today, however... it came in handy, the masks. The newlyweds were out and about shopping for furniture for their new place. They were only moving a neighborhood over, but they still had to fill a whole house with furniture on a budget. This was why they were in a part of town that wasn't quite as seedy as they were used to but not so upscale that it would make them feel alien. After all, even rich people like their bargains.

They'd ordered a sofa, corner table, and entertainment center _set_ for a fuckin' steal, but were still looking for a bed and chest of drawers when they walked by a random sex shop.

"The fuck is this kind of store doin' here?" Mickey wondered aloud. Ian stopped next to him and looked at the place with a quirked brow, then turned to look at all the shops surrounding them as though also wondering how the fuck this got here. It matched the neighbor stores in appearance: same brick exterior and awning with about the same level of fading as the rest of the stores... clean windows. Though, there was the typical neon lining the windows and decorating the walls typical of most sex shops to set the store apart. The windows were noticeably un-tinted, odd for a sex shop, which might be why there was an equally noticeable lack of clientele. 

"You know... We've never been in one of these stores together before..." Ian's eyes gave away the smirk hiding behind the mask at his suggestion.

"What the fuck for? We've got all we need already." Mickey grabbed at his husband's crotch for emphasis. Ian's huff of a laugh came out a little muffled but Mickey still heard it and couldn't help but grin.

"Oh please, remember those anal beads you wanted me to use on you? Think of what else we might find that you want to try," Ian suggested deviously. He nudged Mickey's side playfully with his shoulder and waggled his eyebrows for emphasis. Mickey rolled his eyes and nudged Ian back before following him into the shop.

It was a lot brighter than Mickey had expected — and clean. Like, sterile clean: white tile floors that actually looked like they were mopped regularly and white walls with hardly any dust or cob-webbing to obstruct it.

 _They must've done a deep-ass clean during the lockdown,_ Mickey decided as he followed Ian through the porn section (people still buy that shit?), the display of what had to be fifty different types of lube, and other teeny knick-knack type shit for bachelor/ette parties, all the way back to the dildos and vibrators. 

That was when Mickey saw it.

At the head of the aisle was the — single-handedly _the_ — largest dildo Mickey had ever seen.

The damn thing came up to his waist. He couldn't help it, the impressed "whoa" just burst from his throat before he could stop himself. Ian turned around to join Mickey and whistled in agreement.

An absolutely _evil_ idea popped into Mickey's mind then.

"How much?" he murmured more to himself than to receive an answer. He leaned into the giant pillar of silicone and searched for the price tag.

"I know you're proud of what your ass can take and all, Mick, but that will _never_ fit," Ian laughed.

"Naw, this ain't for insertion," Mickey agreed. He located the price tag: $600.

_Fuck._

But it was _perfect_ goddammit!

"If you don't want to try fucking with it... Then — ?" Ian trailed off when Mickey stood back up and faced him.

"I ain't payin $600 or a lawn ornament," Mickey huffed, discretely looking over Ian's shoulder to see if an employee finally decided to make an appearance... Not a soul in the stacks... "You know they're never gonna sell this thing," Mickey muttered. Ian's brows were enough to show his disapproval.

"Mickey, no —"

"Shhh!" he hissed under his breath. Ian's eyes hardened, expressing his frustration with his husband silently. Mickey checked once again for an employee but saw none. "Time to _really_ put these masks to good use," Mickey grunted under his breath with a sly grin before leaning over, hoisting the silicone tower over his shoulder, and walking right out of the store.

The walk to the L was equally hilarious as it was annoying. At first Ian wouldn't shut up about what he was doing, demanding they go put it back.

"You can't even _use_ it, Mickey! Why do you even _want_ this thing?" He cried. Mickey shushed him again and nodded nonchalantly to a passing older woman who looked absolutely scandalized by the fleshy appendage over this man's shoulder.

"I'll tell ya when we get home, a'right?" Mickey promised. Ian rolled his eyes and released a sound that resembled exasperation and disbelief.

Boarding the train was a challenge with Mickey needing to push past bewildered passengers exiting or blocking the door with their gawking.

"Yes, it's a giant plastic dick, now get out of its way or you'll get fuckin tea-bagged with it!" Mickey barked. It may have been crude, and some might argue gross, but it did the job.

A neat path cleared right to a pair of seats. Mickey lowered the hulking thing from his shoulder and let it slowly slide to the floor of the train. Ian's arched brows greeted Mickey when he turned around to take his seat. Shrugging, he pulled the steal between his spread legs, flat-laying balls facing out just to be an ass to the lady across the way glaring daggers at him, and casually drummed a rhythm on the circumcised head. Ian shook his head and covered the rest of his face with his hand.

"They never would've sold it," Mickey insisted.

"You told me you'd tell me why in the fuck _you'd_ want it even though no one else would — you didn't say anything about me withholding judgement 'til you do." Mickey nodded.

"A'right fine."

And he leaned over to lay his head on Ian's shoulder and in the quietest whisper he could manage, he explained himself.

As Mickey had expected, Ian was so delighted by the plan that he actually took a turn carrying it to the house.

"Stick it in the room for now. Don't want anyone gettin' any funny ideas of their own," Mickey called as he swaggered to the kitchen, pulling off his mask and drawing out his phone.

Veronica picked up on the second ring.

"Alibi Room."

"V! It's Mickey." He yanked open a drawer but quickly shut it, opening up another, only to close it too, unsatisfied with what he was not seeing. "Is Tommy there?"

"Hey, Mickey! Yeah, he just got here fifteen minutes ago."

"Great, he grunted, pulling out the largest knife he could find.

"Want me to tell him you're asking for him?" she asked.

"Nah, I'll be there soon, just make sure he don't leave." He tested the edge of the knife and felt prickling of the sharp metal slitting against the upper layer of his skin, like he could feel it dividing some cells. He nodded to himself, satisfied with its sharpness.

"He in trouble?" she asked, voice deepening in concern.

"Nah. I'm gonna ask him for a favor, that's all," he assured. She grunted as though accepting the explanation, but begrudgingly or without full trust in his word. "Ian and I'll be there in a sec," he added, hoping that Ian's name might soften her up a bit.

"Alright," and the phone scuffled as she dropped it into the cradle. He pulled the phone away from his ear and tucked it back in his pocket, crossing to climb the stairs to their room. Ian was just closing the door when Mickey appeared, brandishing the knife. Ian smiled wickedly.

"I really can't believe that came to you so quickly," he praised. Mickey smirked.

"Gotta be quick in these streets, Gallagher." He tossed the knife onto the bed in plain sight beside the giant pink pillar and smirked.

Tommy and Kermit had resumed their typical spots at their favorite watering hole as though nothing were going on. Mickey moved to remove his mask but Ian arched a brow. The look reminded him that he had no idea what these idiots could have picked up. Mickey rolled his eyes and lowered his hand, moving to the bar and leaning against the wood, one stool distance from the guy.

"Hey, Mick," Tommy greeted casually, taking a sip from his glass.

"Hey, got a favor to ask," Mickey returned. Tommy turned to face him, brows arched as though asking 'oh, really?'

"Gonna come out from hiding to ask me?" Tommy mocked. Mickey rubbed at his eyebrow with his thumb in frustration, turning subtly to his naggy husband like saying see? This is stupid.'

"You gotta read my lips to hear me?" Mickey snarked back. Tommy rolled his eyes.

"What do you want, Mickey?"

"Got any cement you can spare?" Mickey asked. Tommy looked taken aback.

"For _what?"_ he laughed incredulously. Mickey grimaced.

"The less you know the better," Mickey promised. Terry probably still frequented this place and though no one here was likely to be a willing snitch, Terry did have his ways of getting information out of people. Tommy's brows crumbled in a look of pure confusion and concern.

"The fuck're you tryin' to get me into, Milkovich? ...Er, wait is it Gallagher, now?" Tommy teased. Mickey rolled his eyes.

"Nevermind that, you got the extra cement or not?" Tommy looked uncertain. "If you don't know anything then you can't get in trouble for it." This sentiment, of course, is complete bullshit. But it was apparently enough for Tommy.

"Whatever. Yeah, I got a bag in the truck.

"Will ten pounds be enough?" Ian wondered aloud as they parted ways with Tommy. Mickey peeked a look at the bag slung over his shoulder.

"Gonna have to be," Mickey grunted. Ian shrugged.

"So who all should I call while you're getting this set up?" Ian asked, pulling out his phone.

"I was thinkin' Sandy, Debbie, Carl, maybe Kev. Ain't no way Lip's gettin' involved."

"Well, with Freddie it's probably better he doesn't," Ian agreed. Mickey nodded. "And Debbie, I think is doin' a job somewhere, Franny's with her."

"Shame, I'm sure she'll be mad she missed this." Ian laughed in agreement.

They hardened out the final details as they walked, Ian texting the people Mickey suggested so that they could arrange a family meeting while the cement dried.

"Carl's already home," Ian announced having received a confirming text from him.

"Great," Mickey grunted, shoulder starting to ache from the constant weight through the day. Some pranks were definitely more strenuous than others. They walked around to the backyard where they found Carl smoking in a folding lawn chair.

"What did you want me here for?" Carl asked. 

"Got a favor to ask," Ian replied, pulling off his mask before helping Mickey with the bag over his shoulder.

While Ian explained the task, Mickey searched under the stairs and in the storage space under the porch for a wheelbarrow and quickly found one tucked away along with a water hose and shovel. When he returned, Carl's face was lit up with a giant smile.

"Oh, _fuck_ yeah!" He cheered. "That's gonna be funny as _fuck!"_

"To bad we won't be around to see it," Ian grimaced. Mickey furrowed his brows.

"We won't?" Mickey questioned. Ian's brows rose.

"We will?" Mickey shrugged.

"Don't see why not," he grinned. 

"So, what do we do first?" Carl jumped up from the chair, stubbing out the cigarette on the chair's arm and dropping it in the coffee can makeshift ashtray.

Ian carried the monster dick downstairs and Mickey followed with the knife tucked behind his back to ensure no one got pricked or stabbed. The gas on the stove was already going but Mickey wanted to let it go a little longer. 

The front door swung open with an audible crash to announce its closing too.

"What did you losers want me over here for?" Sandy's voice demanded as she marched through the living room to the kitchen where her cousin was holding the knife over the open flame. She stopped short at the sight, a bewildered look turning to Mickey. Mickey just flipped the knife over on the burner and gestured for Ian to bring the thing forward. "That's.... a giant — "

"Sure is!" Mickey interrupted cheerily.

"W... Why do you _have_ one?" Sandy asked, eyes looking at the thing with what looked to be equally impressed and disgusted.

"Lifted it," Mickey answered simply, pulling the knife forward and spitting on it to hear the sizzle. The sound was unsatisfying, though, so he returned it to the flame.

"And the knife?"

"Wanna get back at Terry for being a homophobic prick?" Mickey asked rhetorically. Sandy's brows shot up.

"Well... you obviously know the answer to _that_ so I guess let's just move on to the plan, right?" Mickey smirked. He was about to start sharing his idea when Kev bust in the back door.

"Alright, Gallaghers, I was called for and I'm **—** " He paused in his tracks as he walked around the counter to see what Mickey had balanced against his knee. "That is a _big dick!"_ Kev shouted. Mickey rolled his eyes.

"Very good," Mickey shot dismissively. This time when he pulled the knife from the flame it was _clearly_ hot enough, not even needing to be tested. Ian planted his ass on the floor, supporting the shaft so Mickey had the stability to do what he needed to do.

"What're you **—**? Ah! Why are you _stabbing_ it?!" Kev shouted as though Mickey were going after _his_ scrotum with a white-hot knife. The metal cut into the silicone like fucking _butter_ , just as he'd hoped. He had to go slow as he traced around the perimeter of the the thing, careful to leave roughly two inches of silicone between the knife and the edge of the shaft, so that he didn't accidentally tear through the whole thing and drive it right into his leg.

"Alright, Ian, turn it a bit, let's see if that.... Yeah, there we go," Mickey murmured as he worked.

"Explanation please?" Kev demanded hysterically.

"Christ, Kev, it's a _rubber dick!"_ Ian groaned at Kev's whining. Mickey smirked.

"I too would like to know what this has to do with Terry," Sandy agreed from her new position perched on top of the broken washer in the corner.

"Alright, alright," Mickey huffed, working up a little sweat from the exertion and the flame still going by him. He returned the knife to the flame and proceeded to describe his plan. "But if you're not going to help then you better keep your fuckin' trap shut, Kev," Mickey ordered. Kev's brows shot up and Mickey realized that it may have been more than a little threatening not only coming from him... but coming from him with a burning hot knife in his hand with the pointy end casually facing him. "So, we're all familiar by now with just _how_ homophobic my dad is, right?" Mickey started. Kev and Sandy nodded with brows raised as though they were both remembering some unpleasant, relevant memories. "Well, I lifted this thing because, well, no one was ever gonna fuckin' buy it, and also I thought: how great would it be to have this fucker in dad's yard or on his stoop where the whole neighborhood can see?"

" _Noooo!"_ Sandy and Kev screamed together, Sandy delighted and amused and Kev impressed and amused.

"But, the thing only weighs, what... 35 pounds?" Ian added. Mickey nodded.

"I was able to carry it out of the store no problem, and Dad might not be 'in shape' per se, but he'd probably still be able to just throw it away as soon as he sees it. We've gotta fill this fucker with cement so that he can't move it on his own." Mickey explained.

"That. Is _evil,"_ Sandy smirked, loving every second of it.

"Oh.... He hasn't even gotten to the most evil part," Ian smirked. Mickey grinned and plunged the knife back into the silicone.

It took _hours_ to pry out that silicone without busting the wall of the shaft, but finally they'd mostly hollowed the damn thing out.

"I think that took out about twenty pounds," Ian muttered, standing for the first time since they started, rubbing at his irritated ass. Mickey groaned, stretching his sore back.

"Wouldn't shock me," Mickey agreed. Kev and Carl were in the backyard stirring the cement so they could go ahead and get the plan going. V had arrived roughly two hours into the hollowing process and literally applauded with supportive laughter.

"But that cement is gonna add another fifty!" Sandy declared.

"Doesn't even matter how much it adds. He ain't movin' it without a lot of help and that's the point," he smiled. A yawn tore from his lungs, though, and he realized just how exhausted he was from crouching over the three foot tall thing and poking and hacking at the solid interior to get the insides out. It was a lot harder than he'd imagined. But god was it going to be worth it... Ian carried their project outside and Mickey followed with Sandy and V trailing behind.

"What do you think his reaction is going to be?" V asked Mickey. Mickey grinned, but the look felt a little sad, even to him. 

"Not sure... I know he's gonna be pissed though."

"I think he's going to try picking it up first," Carl announced. 

"It'll look like he's literally embracing a dick," Sandy laughed. A sharp snicker burst from Kev as he presumably imagined such a thing. Mickey imagined it too and his sad smile broadened into a genuine one.

"You know he'll just be able to knock it over," V pointed out. "Then roll it away where no one has to see it."

"I'd thought of that," Mickey allowed. "And honestly, if that even did happen that would still be pretty worth it... But, he'd only be able to do that if the cement didn't stick to the porch."

V turned back to face him with a shocked face.

" _No,"_

"You think we're puttin' all this work in for a twenty minute gag?" Mickey asked rhetorically. Sandy's smile was absolutely maniacal. 

"How're we going to get it there without it all falling out?" V asked.

"We'll let it harden while we eat something, wait until we know for sure that he's asleep, and then carry it upside down to the house," Ian explained.

"The really tricky part," Mickey added. "Will be flipping it over without spilling everything out..." Ian nodded.

"It's pretty much filled," Carl announced, tapping the top with the shovel. Mickey swaggered over and shoved his hand right in the center.

"Not quite, gotta make sure it's really stuck on the edges," He grunted, pushing the mixture down as far as he could, then stepping away so Kev and Carl could continue filling while Ian sprayed the slurry off his hand and arm.

"You know he's gonna know it's you, right?" Kev muttered worriedly. 

"And by that time we'll be long fuckin' gone," Mickey agreed.

"Moving day is tomorrow?" V asked. Mickey shrugged.

"Can be. We've already got the keys and all we gotta pack are our clothes. Then yeah, we're pretty much out of here."

"Want a getaway truck so you can get away quicker?" Kev offered. Ian and Mickey grinned at each other.

"Thanks, man, yeah that'd be great."

Over dinner the couple was interrogated further by their family about how often they planned to visit and why they opted to move out of Back of the Yards completely and Mickey and Ian had just looked at each other sadly.

"A fresh start," Ian finally answered. Mickey was tired of always looking over his shoulder to see if Terry was around the corner waiting to off either himself or his husband. He was sick of worrying about what Terry would do when he and Ian finally decided to adopt their children, or god forbid if Debbie or Sandy agreed to surrogate for them. Mickey had tried these past several months to put on a brave face for Ian's sake (and his own sake) but the stress was getting to him and Ian watched it for too long before finally announcing to Mickey that they were moving. Mickey hadn't wanted to uproot them from the Gallaghers because Ian had made it clear that moving away scared him for various reasons. But this was what marriage was about: making sacrifices and compromises to ensure the safety, health, and comfort of your spouse. 

The house they'd picked out was perfect for a small family. It was on a street very similar to South Wallace: not quiet but not rowdy either. They even knew a few of the neighbors already. This send-off was Mickey getting the final word. _Finally._

Something he thought he'd never get and had made peace with until now when revenge was looking him right in the eye.

By the end of the conversation everyone was satisfied knowing that the Milkovich-Gallaghers would be back for holidays, birthdays, and for random family nights if they wanted to do such a thing. This wasn't goodbye, this was "until next time." And what better way to get in one last good memory together than planting a giant dick on the biggest homophobe of South Side's stoop?

They loaded up Kev's truck with the few boxes they had already packed and all stood around watching while Ian and Mickey folded up the rest of their belongings into boxes, loading them up as well.

"Ready?" Mickey asked the family as Kev settled the final box in the bed of his truck. V grinned and Carl even rubbed his hands like a cartoon supervillain.

Surrounding their project, each person took a firm grip of the shaft, Mickey accepting the pure silicone balls at the rear, and pulled up. For a second the silicone caved in and Mickey was worried someone was about to get cement mixture in their hair or on their face. V and Ian, however, reached to the tip of the thing, and cupped the giant head for added support. Mickey exhaled sharply.

"Okay, let's cut through the yard, and straight-shoot it for dad's yard." Mickey murmured. It wasn't really necessary to keep quiet at this point, but he wasn't willing to take chances of drawing attention to themselves. The Alibi had closed hours ago so unless he was out on a run, he should be in for the night.

They had to practically crawl to carry this thing, not only because it _definitely_ added at _least_ fifty pounds, but also because they were trying so desperately to not shift the contents. They had thought of using the wheelbarrow, but between tilting the thing forward to move it, unexpected jostles in the ground and the slope of the thing itself, it just didn't make sense to risk it.

Still, by the time they'd crossed the first street, Mickey was starting to regret it. His skin was getting clammy and he had to dig in his fingers to avoid the very tempting desire to readjust his hold; but doing so might knock someone else off balance.

"Please... tell me you brought the sheet of wood, Sandy," Ian grunted, clearly frustrated by the awkward position he was forced to maintain.

"I've already got it on top, dumbbell," she retorted. Mickey couldn't see over the top to see if she was right, but he trusted her.

Dad's house in plain view, Mickey was aggravated to see the damn gate was open.

"Fuuuuuuck," he groaned. 

"What... now?" Carl gritted.

"Fuckin' gate's shut," Mickey whispered.

" _Christ,"_ Ian hissed.

"Sandy, you put your hand.... yeah, right there. I'm sure you'd never expected to be cuppin' balls, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up and go get the gate, fucker," she grimaced. Mickey laughed under his breath. He slowly slid away from the group, watching as Sandy reached farther and farther under the crease of the little island of silicone, and grabbed the plank of wood from the top. He raced across the street and, silently as possible, lifted the paddle holding the gate door shut, and pulled the door up so it didn't clink or drag across the pavement of the walkway. It creaked a _teeny_ bit, but not so badly that Mickey suspected it would alert his dad to anything. 

Just like when he was a kid, he tip-toed through the walkway and silently padded up the stairs. He tested each stair for creaks, and breathed a silent sigh of relief that no sound emitted from the wood.

All the lights were out in the house so Terry was either not home or in bed. Acting as though he was home, Mickey silently chose his spot to lay the "gift": a mere foot from the door, just enough so that he could squeeze by to leave and enter. By the time he turned around the family was creeping up the walkway, and Mickey's stomach tore a little at the scuffling of their shoes against the pavement.

 _Fuck,_ they should've removed them! Too late for that now, though.

He moved to the side as they readjusted to Sandy and Carl walking up first, followed by the tallest. Once they were on the porch, everyone seemed to be holding their breath as Mickey toed at the exact place they were going to put it. He recognized nodding heads in the dark, signalling that they saw the intended target. Mickey capped the top of the thing with the wood and, pressing as hard as he could as everyone tipped it over, they laid their masterpiece on the porch right where Mickey wanted it. He exhaled slowly and silently, biting his lip to relieve some of the nervous tension as he slowly scraped the wood out from under the silicone, pulling the wood towards the flat-laying testicles, hoping that some cement would drag along that portion to have a complete seal to the porch.

He noticed a little bit of cement creeping out from beneath the edges and patted it with a finger to complete the seal. Kev even pushed at the head for good measure, ensuring an air-tight lock. Mickey stood and met shit-eating-grins with one of his own. Ian thumbs-upped to the family and single-file everyone proceeded back down the walk. As he was about to take Ian's hand to walk home, Sandy stopped him by pulling at his shoulder. He turned to face her and thought she was demanding a thanks when he actually recognized a can of shaving cream in her hand.

Their wicked grins surely were carbon-copies of each other. He accepted the can and shook it thoroughly before returning back to the steps. He listened for a moment once he returned to the porch, which probably freaked Ian out because he probably thought he heard something; but when he, indeed, heard nothing, Mickey quickly sprayed thick rivulets of shaving cream from the tip of the dildo, running down the sides, and dotted some across the base.

At the base of the stairs, he took a picture and returned home for a brief rest before they finally got the fuck out of dodge first thing in the morning.

They received the video of Terry discovering his present at about two the next afternoon. Apparently the morning heat had helped to speed along the curing process because that fucker did not budge even as Terry, indeed, hugged and pulled and twisted and kicked.

They might have been sitting on the boxes they'd brought because their sofa wouldn't arrive until Monday, but their spirits were so high from this prime revenge that neither of them gave a shit.


End file.
